I was talking to my friend Brooke, while the boys ran, willy nilly, up and down the hallway, in and out of each others' rooms, opening and closing doors like they were acting out a French farce. This is very probably their favorite thing in the world to do (I'm not joking), and I'm just now getting to where I feel comfortable letting them do it without my watching every single second out of fear that they'll accidentally drink the Drano under my bathroom sink (that is ALSO not a joke).
After a few minutes of jubilant mayhem, I heard Freddie WAILING. I have no idea what happened, but I DO know that, when I walked in to Jones's room where both boys were at that point, Jones was hiding behind his bed, saying to me:
"Sorry. Sorry. You (for)'give me?"
"Yes, Son. I forgive you, but what did you do?"
"Sorry. Sorry."
I still have no idea what happened, but that guilty conscience tells me something did.
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